


Ruthless

by Sinistretoile



Series: Partners [4]
Category: British Actor RPF, Jaguar "British Villains" Commercial, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Amelia is ruthless, Blood and Violence, Cricket, F/M, Falling In Love, Morning Sex, Revenge, Rock Salt, Smut, Thomas gets hurt, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 10:54:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3647661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinistretoile/pseuds/Sinistretoile





	Ruthless

The sunlight shone through the French doors across the bed. Amelia rolled over and cuddled sleepily against Thomas's back. Her arms wrapped around his muscular thigh. Her head snuggled into his lap. "Morning, beautiful." He combed his fingers through her auburn hair and settled back against the headboard better.  
"Morning, love." She breathed in deeply, then sighed it out. "Anything in the paper?"  
"Nothing about either of our respective businesses."  
She hummed and snuggled tighter. "Wonderful." The sheet shifted over his lap.  
Thomas folded his newspaper and laid it on the nightstand. "What are you doing?"  
"Snuggling my man."  
"You're getting awfully close to my bits."  
"Maybe that's the point." She nuzzled her face into his cock. He laid his hand on her shoulder. "Mmm, there he is." Her lips slipped over the soft flesh, pressing firmly together. He sighed.  
"Darling..." Amelia swallowed and sucked him hard, moaning in delight as he grew hard in her mouth. He groaned and wiggled his hips. She straddled his thighs, bent over. Her hand wrapped around the base of his cock and stroked him in time with her mouth. His head dropped back against the headboard. "Oh god." His hand held the back of her head. His other fisted into the sheet. Her lips puckered over the head.  
Thomas's hand closed in her hair and pulled her up. Their tongues tangled before their lips met. His free hand splayed against the small of her back and pressed her body closer. She spread her thighs around his waist, tucking her feet against his thighs. She lined him up with her entrance. She wanted to draw this out longer, but Thomas wanted something. He thrust upward, stretching her. She gasped and slid down the rest of the way.  
He groaned and drew his knees up. Using his feet, he pushed up into her with surprising strength and speed for this early in the morning. Amelia grabbed his hair and held his mouth to hers. Open mouth to open mouth, they hovered. Their breath mingling with their pants and moans. He held the back of her neck and her waist. She rode him hard, bringing her body up and dropping it on his cock. Their bodies pounded together.  
Amelia grabbed onto the headboard when his thumb pressed to her clit. "Oh Thomas, yes! Oh god!"  
"Yes, baby." Her back arched and Thomas leaned forward, keeping their mouths close. He loved her when she let her guard down. He loved her when she let go. He loved her. God, he loved her. He wanted to tell her. He knew she loved him too. But she felt like admitting love might be seen as a weakness. She wouldn't tell him that either.  
Her body shook and bared down on him when her orgasm hit. Her cunt clamped down on his cock. He grunted and held her down harder as he finished. He kissed her deeply, his lips and tongue exploring every bit of her mouth. He pulled her back and nuzzled their noses together. "Join me in the shower, mon chevalier?"  
"Lead the way, ma reine."

The Jaguar sedan slid up to the curb in front of a non-descript business office. The placard read 'Montgomery & Associates, Ltd.', in engraved bronze. The valet emerged from the oak door and crossed the sidewalk directly to the rear passenger door. He opened it and silently, patiently waited.  
"See you at lunch, ma reine."  
"I hate the days you do collections. I always worry."  
"It's only ever high profile clients, darling. Their danger is negligible. Besides, I have Mick."  
"I still worry, mon chevalier." Thomas cupped the side of her face. His thumb caressed her lip, careful not to smudge the lipstick.  
"You don't think I worry when you talk 'privately' with your city officials?"  
"I know you do. So you should understand where I come from."  
He held her jaw and kissed her tenderly, letting some of those guarded, unspoken emotions seep through. His fingertips slipped along her face as she turned and unfolded herself from the car. The valet closed the door behind her then quickly moved in front of her to open the door to the office.  
"Morning, Ms. Montgomery."  
"Good morning, Josie. Any messages?"  
"Yes, miss." She handed a stack of pink 'While you were out' notes to Amelia. "Your coffee is on your desk. The files you requested have been pulled. And your lunch as been ordered."  
"Fantastic, Josie." The little brunette took her coat and hung it on an old-fashioned coat rack. The valet closed the office door behind Amelia then stood in front of it.

Thomas loosened his tie as he relaxed into the back seat. Only three more meetings before he met Amelia for lunch. He needed to find a way to tell her. To tell her and to let her know that it was okay for her to tell him as well.  
The late morning sunshine tried to break through the overcast clouds, but the grey thunderheads promised rain. He smiled to himself. They could snuggle on her couch and watch the rain through the plate glass windows with a fire roaring. Jameson on ice and some Sinatra playing. He closed his eyes and dozed while the car glided silently back across town.  
"Boss, we're here." Thomas shook awake. It wasn't like him to fall fully asleep. It made him feel fuzzy, off his game and it caused him to miss things. He rubbed his face and adjusted his tie. Mick stepped out of the car then opened the back passenger door for Thomas.  
"I shouldn't be too long. Matthew promised to have the money today." Thomas stretched after standing to his full height. He tugged down his cuffs and adjusted his tie knot.  
Mick's cell phone rang into the quiet neighborhood, harsh against the birdsong. Thomas raised a sleek eyebrow when Mick peeked at the display. "Sorry, boss. It's Sophie. I've gotta take it. She was having contractions this morning and they've been getting closer together and longer."  
"Go ahead, mate."  
"'Ello, babe." Thomas squinted against the sunlight, the fog of the unexpected nap still dissipating.  
"Mick, I'll go on ahead."  
"'Ang on, babe." Mick covered the mic. "You sure, boss?"  
"It's only Matthew. He'll pay his interest and promise the rest of the money next. It'll take all of ten minutes."  
"Ya, but he was awful skittish last week. Real squirrely like."  
"Nonsense, Mick. I'll be fine. Give Sophie my love."  
Thomas's Oxfords clicked up the walk. He raised his hand to knock. Two things happened at once. Mick shouted for Thomas and he turned, and the door swung open before Thomas's hand reached the gleaming bronze knocker.  
Time seemed to slow. Mick's eyes widened as he spotted the double barrel of the shotgun in the doorway. He dropped his phone and broke into a run. Thomas, alerted by Mick's body language turned back to the door, arm raised.  
The shotgun's report barked, silencing the birdsong and echoing down the row of townhouses. Thomas's shoulders rolled with his body bowed. Both slugs hit him in the chest. He rocked back on his heels before staggering then falling into Mick.  
"Boss!" The door slammed. Sirens approached, close and fast. They'd been called before the shots. Matthew. Blood blossomed on Thomas's shirt.  
"Fuck!" It wasn't enough for the target load to have been lead pellets. Thank god. His chest and arm burned. Rock salt. He clenched his jaw. The dress shirt and undershirt had stopped the smaller particles but the bigger chunks had embedded themselves deep enough to burn like hell.  
"That little prick!"  
"We don't have time. Get me in the car. Fuck." Mick supported Thomas under the arm with his shoulder.  
"But boss-"  
"Mick. The police are nearly here. You, the driver and myself are all in possession of illegal firearms. Get me in the fucking car. Now."  
"Yes, boss." Thomas fell across the back seat, hissing in pain and trying not to touch anything against his chest and arm. He clenched his teeth and kicked the panel of the door. The driver sped off.  
"Call Amelia. Her office is closest."  
Mick swallowed and dialed her number. She'd no doubt go ballistic. And he needed to get to the hospital. Sophie's mum had taken her in to delivery.  
"Mick. Why are you calling me?"  
"Sorry, Ms. Montgomery. It's an emergency."  
"What's happened?"  
"Thomas has been shot." Thomas's face scrunched up anew at the wave of searing pain, double by Amelia's panicked, sorrowful wail. "Boss, calm down. We're headed to your office." He could hear her choked sobs.  
"Calm down?! Calm down?!"  
"He's alright."  
"Alright?! Are you daft, Mick! He's been shot!"  
"I don't know, boss. But he's conscious and cussing a streak. There's blood but not like there should be."  
"Come around the back entrance. Jacob will be waiting." Thomas gritted his teeth and kicked the door, shouting curses the entire way.  
True to Amelia's word, Jacob, the valet, waited at the back entrance to the office building. Mick jumped out of the passenger door before the Jaguar had come to a complete stop. He flung open Thomas's door, dodging the man's kicking feet. Thomas latched onto Mick's hand like a vise and pulled himself up. Once again, Mick supported Thomas under the arm with his shoulder and they hurried through the open door.  
Amelia's head snapped up at Thomas's shouted expletives. They met her in the doorway of the office suite as she darted in the direction of his voice. Her tears began fresh at the sight of the bright red blood on his pristine cream dress shirt. The edges and the smaller spots had started to darken and dry.  
"Couch. Get him to the couch. Josie! Hold all my calls and cancel all my meetings. We're closed for the day as of now." Mick practically carried Thomas to the couch, where Thomas dropped like a stone. Amelia shooed Mick and Jacob away. "Get me two tumblers of Jameson on ice, some hot water and towels. Bandages. Antibiotic ointment. And a fresh shirt."  
"Yes, miss."  
Amelia's head snapped back around when Thomas hissed and growled like shaved cat, kicking over the coffee table. "Bloody fuck! It burns."  
"What the hell happened?" She held the cuff of the suit jacket as he pulled his arm out. The arm was shredded. And both of them highly doubted the tailor could save it. He clenched his jaw, trying not to flinch while shrugging out of the jacket the rest of the way. She tossed it onto the upturned table.  
Thomas caught sight of her face when she knelt to the undo the buttons of his shirt. Her mascara had run. Her eyes had puffed up slightly. Her lips were swollen, from the tears and from her biting them in worry. His heart clenched. He gently took her hands, his shaking fingers closing around her trembling ones as she worked at a bloody button.  
"Ma reine." Thomas pushed away the pain, bringing her fingers to his pale lips to pressed the softest kiss. That simple gesture tore her heart and she collapsed into sobs, squeezing his fingers with her own. Her head dropped forward. Thomas felt the tears, saw her body shake with the sobs, heard the pain and fear in them.  
"I thought-" Thomas wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly against his burning chest. Tears sprang to his own eyes, fueled by the scorching pain in his flesh and the aching pain in his heart from seeing her like this. He hushed her, gasping at the pressure. Stars flashed in his vision. He knew he was going to pass out. Amelia sniffed and pulled away from him. She wiped her eyes and swallowed. "Let me take care of you."  
Mick cleared his throat from the door. "Miss, boss?"  
"Just set them on table." Thomas closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing. His pulse felt rapid. She dipped a towel into the warm water and wiped off his sweaty, clammy face. "He's going into shock. I need a blanket as well."  
"Yes, miss." Mick ducked out of the room.  
"Mon chevalier. You're going into shock. Try to stay with me, love. Don't pass out."  
His voice was breathy when he spoke. "I'll try, my darling." Amelia made quick work of the rest of his buttons and opened his shirt. She gripped the collar of the undershirt and ripped it down the middle. Jacob brought the Jameson in.  
"Thomas, drink it."  
"Yes, love." He knocked back the first tumbler. Jacob switched out the empty glass for the full.  
"Now, get out." Amelia dowsed the towel again. "This is going to hurt, baby. It's alright if you pass out."  
"Good, because I just might."  
"Grab onto something." He met her eyes and grabbed a handful of her hair at the back of her skull, just above the base of her neck. She gasped. Emotions passed between them, desires unspoken. His blood on his lips where he had kissed her fingers pinged through her.  
Amelia wrung the water over his bloody chest then wiped it off. Thomas screamed and stomped and pulled her hair harder, twisting it tight. "Fucking hell!" His grip loosened as darkness overwhelmed him. His head dropped back on the couch. The whiskey spilled upon the carpet from the tipped glass as it slipped from his fingers. It rolled away, forgotten.  
Amelia pressed her lips together and cleaned his chest. Her jaw clenched as she fought not to chew her tongue. Her nostrils flared, breathing in and out harshly. His beautiful, muscular body marred by angry red welts and open sores. He'd be scarred in clusters from the deeper chunks. Hopefully, the warm water melted the most of it. If not, his shower tonight should take care of the rest. Her anger grew as she worked. He flinched when she applied the antibiotic ointment before bandaging his wounds.  
"Mick!" Thomas's guard opened the door and leaned his head in. He looked harried and shaken. "Help me lift him."  
"Yes, miss." Mick grabbed his shoulders to turn him and lay him upon the couch. Amelia lifted his legs to lay him out straight the rest of the way.  
"Talk." Mick relayed the story as Amelia removed Thomas's shoes then tucked the blanket around him. She sucked her teeth in thought when he'd finished then clicked her tongue in decision. "Go to your wife before your son is born without you. I'll take care of Matthew Lancaster."  
"Yes, miss."  
Amelia sat on the floor by Thomas's head. She laid her cheek upon the back of her hand as she watched him rest. Her expertly manicured nails combed through his disheveled hair, smoothing it back into place. Looking at him, drawn and pale, she knew without a doubt she loved him. She loved him. And that moment of terror and sorrow when Mick told her that he'd been shot had been the deepest, most raw pain she'd ever felt.  
She laid a gentle kiss upon his forehead and one upon his lips, nuzzling the tip of her nose along his. "Mon chevalier. My love. My heart." She stood and looked down at herself. His blood dotted her silk dress shirt. "Jacob."  
His head poked in the door ajar. "Yes, Miss?"  
"Send for my car. I have something to take care of. Oh, and Spike. Is Thomas's driver still here?"  
"Yes, miss."  
"Excellent. You and he will place Thomas in the Jaguar then take him to his townhouse. You are to stay with him until he awakes. Let him know I will be there shortly."  
"Yes, miss." The valet scurried off to carry out her instructions.

The doorbell rang. Matthew almost didn't hear it over the music. "Coming!" It had apparently been ringing awhile and the person continued to ring it. "I said I was coming, goddammit!" Matthew whipped open the door.  
The end of a cricket bat hit him in the diaphragm at an upward angle. He gasped and staggered back. His eyes widened, fighting for the air that had been forced from his lungs. "Matthew Lancaster. Pleasure. I'm Amelia Montgomery. This is my associate Spike."  
Matthew stumbled as he tried to run. Spike him in the back with beveled side of the bat, knocking him to the floor. He began to crawl away from the them.  
"I'm a close, personal friend of Thomas Hiddleston. The man you shot in the chest!"  
"Matthew? What's going on here?" Amelia and Spike turned to a dainty, pretty little woman and two young children, standing shocked in the doorway. Matthew looked up from the floor and tried to rose. Amelia stomped her heel into his back, between his spine and his shoulder blade. The air huffed out of him again as he whined.  
"You. Don't get up." Amelia smiled warmly at the woman. "Hello, and you are?"  
"Beth. Beth Lancaster. Would you tell me what's going on here? Why are you attacking my husband? And what's this about him shooting someone?" The whites of her eyes began to show around the edges.  
"Mrs. Lancaster, I'm Amelia Montgomery. I have some business with Matthew here that requires a bit of the physical." She ground her heel into the spot, making him cry out. "You may stay. You're going to want to hear the dirty little doings your husband's been up to. But your children must leave. Send them upstairs, to a neighbor's, to the backyard. Just not here."  
Beth turned to the blonde boy and girl that were her spitting images and spoke softly. "Go out back and play, loves. Mummy and daddy need to speak with this lady and gentleman."  
"Yes, mummy." The two little ones ran out of the room.  
"How old?"  
Beth swallowed. "Six and five. Now please, tell me what this is about."  
"Beth, may I call you Beth?" She nodded and waved the question away. "Beth, Matthew here has been a very bad boy." Amelia sat on the coffee table and crossed her legs, keeper her heel in his back.  
Spike stood with his hand loosely clasped over his wrist, holding the cricket bat at the ready. His bald head, studded with spike surface anchors, a striking contrast to the bespoke, pinstripe suit. "Have a seat, Mrs. Lancaster." Amelia felt his deep voice rumble in her chest. She smiled at her left hand enforcer.  
"We'll start with the most recent of his indiscretions. He shot my partner, Thomas Hiddleston, with a double barrel of rock salt. About two hours ago. These dark spots-" Amelia gestured to the dried, brownish red spots on her blouse. "-his blood."  
"Matthew? I thought Thomas was your friend." Beth sunk down to a chair.  
"Mr. Hiddleston was coming to collect on a debt. Your husband is into my partner for 35,000 pounds. He's apparently been paying the interest and begging off the principle. It's Mr. Hiddleston's money so I haven't expressed my opinion up until now. But we'll get to that." Amelia produced an envelope and handed it to Beth.  
"What's that? What is that! Don't open it, Beth!"  
"Shut up, you." Amelia stomped on his back and made him squeal. "That is pictures. Of you, Matthew, with several of my girls. Suzette, Natasha, Gabrielle, Rebecca, Hayley and Anna."  
"They're just whores, Beth. They meant nothing! I love you!"  
Amelia flexed her fingers. She hated that word 'whore'. There were of every kind but woman practiced the oldest trade in the known world were demonized, slandered by the word. "Shut up, Matthew. Or I swear I will put this heel through your spine." Amelia dug deeper. She knew she'd break the skin soon if he pushed her any further. "He's also been partaking in drugs, pot, ecstasy, cocaine. All evidenced in the pictures as well. You can keep those. I have my own copies." Amelia sighed and stood up, removing her heel form his back. Matthew grunted in relief. She smoothed her skirt and walked over to Spike, taking the cricket bat from him. "One more thing."  
Amelia wielded the bat like a wild woman. The memory of Thomas's screams and curses drowning out Matthew's as she wailed on his back and legs. Matthew curled into a ball, attempting to protect his head and neck. She struck his sides and knees as he curled and rolled to stave off the blows. She heard a finger or possibly two break as he brought his hand up to fend her off and the bat connected with it. She brought it down on the hand that protected his head. He screamed and clutched his hand to his chest. She hit his head with the flat side of the cricket bat then side of his face with the beveled side.  
Her chest heaved. She felt the hot tears on her cheeks, not having realized she was crying. "You have one week. ONE WEEK! To bring the money to my office. Every mother fucking cent." Spike carefully removed the cricket bat from her hand. Amelia stood over him then crouched down. She grabbed a handful of his hair and brought her face to his. "One. Week. Or I will burn this fucking house to the ground and release the pictures to the local news authorities. I'm sure they'd love to see one of their beloved old family good ol' boys brought low by his vices. You might be Thomas's friend but you are NOT mine. You hurt someone I care about and that is unacceptable."  
"You're black listed, Matthew. None of Thomas's bookies will deal with you. None of his dealers will sell to you. None of my houses will welcome you. You'll have to deal with the street toughs to satisfy your vices." She flung him away disgusted. She stepped away from and produced a business card. She handed it to Beth. "If you need anything, you give me a call."  
Spike nodded to Beth as they walked out. Without being told, he busted the lights on Matthew's Range Rover, then moved to windows and the mirrors, putting random dents in the body.

Warmth spread over Thomas. He hung in that in-between of sleep and awake. His chest burned. When he opened his eyes, he looked up into Amelia's sleeping face. He turned his head to find them upon his sofa. His head rested in her lap. Her cheek lay upon her outstretched arm over the back of the sofa. Her chest rose and fell with her sleep. She'd showered and changed into yoga pants and a soft tee that clung to her breasts.  
How did he get so lucky? To have this stunning, intelligent, driven woman love him, let him love her, make love to her, be his partner in everything? She accepted him wholly, at his best and worst. She let him do things to her that no other woman had, at least that he hadn't had to pay for. And she enjoyed it. He had to tell her that he loved her. And soon.  
Thomas reached up and caressed her cheek. She breathed in deeply through her nose and fluttered her eyes open. "Sorry, baby. I fell asleep."  
"S'alright. It was a pleasant sight to wake up to." He smiled up at her. She returned the smile.  
"How's your chest?"  
"It hurts like hell. But it could have been worse. A lot worse."  
She laid a finger on his lips to quiet him. Her damp hair formed a curtain around them when she leaned down. Upside down, their lips brush over each other. Their tongues performed a languid dance, tangling and twisting, tasting each other. That morning seemed so far away from this moment as his thumb rubbed the end of her chin. Her eyes shone with tears and love but no words dripped from her lips. Did they really need to say anything when these kisses and looks between them said everything they needed to say?


End file.
